A big weekend for dreaming around here. First I had one I'm still trying to figure out: I held a neighbor girl, now a fourth grader but a toddler in my dream, over Kathleen's washing machine as she peed all over Kathleen's clean clothes. When Kathleen came home and discovered what I had done she said, "Now I can't hear the angels talking." Anyone want to interpret THAT one?
Next night I was standing in a pitch black kitchen with an old friend. I was preparing to leave and trying to gather up all my things. She pulled out a bunch of plastic bowls and said, "These are yours." (Again, it's pitch black.) I opened the refrigerator behind me to shine the light on the situation and when I saw the bowls she was trying to pass off on me, I said, "That's not my stuff."
Uh huh. A. Little. Like. That.
Can't talk now - gotta go open refrigerators, light candles, flick on all the lights and re-examine what's actually mine.
And what's not.
*Photo from totomel.files.wordpress.com